


Closing Time

by Cocobunny



Series: A Flock of Owls [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocobunny/pseuds/Cocobunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Court of Owls au. Dick has been chosen by the court to become their new Talon, and is presented a photo of his target, Bruce Wayne. Raise the boy up to be Wayne's killer, and who else was he going to fall in love with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of my friend's birthday on tumblr.

“Do you know who this is, little one?”

Dick shook his head. The woman in the owl mask had given him a photo of a man with jet black hair, and piercing blue eyes.

“This is your target.” The woman hinted.

“He’s a Wayne,” Dick answered, looking up at them. He could sense that they were pleased with him; could almost even see the smiles behind their masks.

“Yes, and do you know what we do to Waynes, son?” a man, beside the woman, asked.

“We eliminate them.” Dick recounted, reciting his conditioning. As the others swarmed around his trainer, Dick looked back down at the picture, his thumb tracing the square curve of the man’s jaw.

He had expected someone older. Much older than the man in the picture. Someone who was wrinkled, gray-haired and ugly. The man in the photograph was none of these things. His face was smooth of wrinkles, and not a single gray or stray hair out of line on his head, and his smile was firm but friendly. It was a fake smile, Dick knew that much.

Everything about the man in the picture seemed too perfect, too calculated, too fake. He could see it in the careful curves of the smile, the way the eyes shone too bright, too guarded, as if this pampered rich boy had a secret behind this mask of his. 

Dick stared hard, trying to read through those eyes, wondering what secret could be worth so much, that this man would not show himself to the world. Afterward, he would catch glimpses of the man, through the newspaper, or through the old static television, but none were enough to satisfy Dick. The picture was still under his pillow, the edges worn and the paper crinkled where Dick would stare at the picture often, frowning at the man.

He could see where he would mark him. Draw the blood out, pierce the skin and struck the nerves where they would hurt, but never anything vital. He could see all the muscle points he would hit, the ones that would draw out the most pain, the ones that would leave the man immobile and useless to strike back. Dick smoothed his finger over Wayne’s brow, imagining the forehead creased, the eyes half-closed and bloodshot with pain.

Dick pressed the picture to his lips, his eyes closed as he imagined Wayne’s shallow breaths, his lungs punctured or collapsed, each draw of breath labored and tinged with the beautiful sigh of a plea. A plea to stop, to spare him, or just to end it. But Dick was not made to end a life that quick. He would draw out every breath Wayne had to offer, beat, cut, and ultimately drive the man over the cliff. And maybe then, Dick would be able to read Wayne’s secrets. Cut out those eyes and preserve them. Let the Court have the bones, the eyes, Dick would keep for himself.

The time grew near, the clock was ticking. Wayne’s time was almost up. Years had passed when he was first presented with the face of his target. A face he’d grown up gazing at, for every single day of his training till now. He memorized every feature of this man, knew his bones, his eyes, his voice, every single detail down to the cape and cowl. Even under the guise of the Bat, he would know Bruce Wayne anywhere.

A black gloved finger traced the picture pinned to the wall, the entire section obscured with clippings, pictures of Wayne and of the Bat. The owl in the room ruffled its feathers, giving a small ‘hoot’. It was time to head out, and clean up. It was time to announce to Wayne he was here. He existed. And he was coming for him.

Dick looked at Wayne’s eyes, touching the corner’s of the well-worn picture. Soon, he’d be able to look at them himself, and gaze at them with pleasure while he ripped Wayne’s heart out. He leaned in, planting a soft, light kiss on the picture’s lips, sighing as he parted. Gazing at the picture one last time before he dug the knife in. The wall cracked audibly from the force, the picture torn, the knife embedded deep in Wayne. A soft smile on Dick’s face.

Yes. Very soon.


End file.
